VOOMAN’S VOICE
I have dragged myself out of my bed to face the world…to find my voice. I am Vooman and I do have a voice. I think I crawled under the cover never to come out because I can’t face this fighting world, a war on every front with people sleeping in the street and not getting enough to eat all over this freaking planet. Flood, fires, famine, bombs, fighting, murder are a weekly happenings. Somewhere deep inside you feel like you should do something about some of this despair, but know your are in no position to do anything. Hardly in a position to take care of yourself let alone help anyone else.
Not to understand, but wondering if there is any intelligent master over all this, I opened the Jewish Old Testament. And read war after war after war. It only made me realize how long this has been going on and how little chance there is that it will stop. Those bad boys back then were going out and slaughtering thousands and thousand in one day. God had no shame about marching these thousands and thousand of Jews into other people lands and towns and just taking over. No wimps in those days. David slaughtered thousands and Solomon slaughtered tens of thousands. Our little drones that only kill 15 or 20 people is nothing.
I really need to go back to comedy. I have become too serious. The Revolutionary Poets Brigade that I have joined is too serious for me. Too many problems on every front. And my 32 year old son can’t get a job. The jobs are in China, India or the Philippines. If I don’t post any blogs is because I am afraid I cannot said anything intelligent, funny, interest or of good report. Okay, I admit I don’t have the answers. I am getting one day older every day. There is no turning it back. My face is getting more wrinkles and I laugh a whole lot less. Give me a break. I think I should stop watching CNN. But I am addicted to what is going on. I need to know. Maybe this is something like heroin you need to go through withdrawal to get off news addiction.
I need to go to a withdrawal camp where you are not allow to get a fix of bad new for weeks at a time. Maybe I should start one. I have no pep or energy to pop this stuffy bubble I am in and have been in for weeks. Give me a break. Just give me a break. Let me get back to some fun, if there is fun still in the world.
CALIFORNIA ONLY 23 BILLION DOLLARS IN DEBT
How is it that California is limping along 23 billion dollar in debt. Everything seems to be running somewhat the same as always. There are still Policemen, firemen, schools, the tram is on the track. How can this be? Maybe the idea of money is only relative, maybe it is not real. Maybe 23 billion dollar doesn’t mean 23 billion dollars. When my money runs out, I can’t buy food, gas or pay the rent. What is this debt that shadows our lives. This is not suppose to be part of the American dream. America is suppose to get richer, live bigger and better in their pursuit for happiness. Is the 23 billions just part of our happiness…spend, spend, spend? Can we borrow more? Since we have the most artillery maybe other country are afraid not to loan us their money. It seems to me that the English had a better idea, they just conquered and took what they wanted. I have never seen so many treasures as those in Buckingham Palace. In the Bible, when you conquer you take the spoils. It is expected of the winner. When Americans win, they give, give, give to build back what they have destroyed. This is a crazy kind of war. We try to be the nice helpful guy and conquer at the same time. It is impossible to do both. The spoils of war used to go to the winner. Is this why we never win? We could conquer and make these places another part of USA, our land ….our oil. Who found the oil, who drilled for it, who built the processing plants?
With our country not paying back it’s debts, the states not paying back their debts, how come we the people need to pay our debts. These debts are certainly not happiness. I have not read one article of anybody who has any solution to this vast American problem. I don’t really expect anyone to come up with a way to allow anyone to spend more than they earn. The Government could take care of the lazy, the fat, the addicted, the crazy, the poor, the unemployed…if they weren’t trillions of dollar in debt. How was it that Bill Clinton actually brought down the national debt?? Maybe, I ,like everyone else, should go along with this fantasy…maybe it is like a Disney movie, it will all end up happy ever after in the end.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
LOST IN A KALEIDOSCOPE
Thursday night I was the feature reading at ANGER MANAGEMENT, a poetry reading at THE KALEIDOSCOPE. I realized, before we left my driver was drinking more than he should have been. I ask my driver to let me drive. I couldn't fire my driver as he was carrying the video camera that was going to record my performance. I tryed not to say much as I knew my driver had had a bad day. He had a conflict with the thief who is trying to steal his $100,000 movie. That could drive anyone to drink and possibly even out of their mind after working on this movie project for the last five years. He told me earlier that he was ready to move on...MOVE ON...ON,ON,ON!!!
We had a terrible time finding parking, but we finally found a spot. I gathered my poems and hurriedly made it to The Kaleidoscope, which was a full house. I was the first reader after the band played a few numbers. My driver headed to the bar for more to drink. He was the only one in the place talking loudly through the music. I tried to catch his eyes, but by then he had the attention of a beautiful brunette with long legs.
The band played their own music, which I thought was funny and original. The two singers were comic and good singers.
I was the first reader and had picked out what I thought was my best anger poems. I did alright until I got to the one I had just written earlier that day and I didn't have it under my belt yet and kind of stumbled and read it badly. They had told me 15 minutes and I had to cut it to 10 when I got there. There are many poets in San Francisco just waiting to read. I said, I had found it a little hard coming from Phoenix where there was a drought of poetry to San Francisco where that was a flood of poetry. I got some laughs and some claps. I was happy.
The poetry reading went on and Jessica read and she does performance poetry. I thought she did very well. Most of the poets only read one poem, but my driver,S. D., was getting restless. Poetry sometimes seem to get him a bit uinhinged. He feels like he is getting peppered by words like tiny bullets. He can't take too much, too long, especially when he had had to much to drink. Maybe he has not been subject to the written word long enough. His own words would probably entertain him more.
I agreed to leave at the half, even though I didn't really wanted to. I wanted to make a night of it...as long as I was there and I was the feature reader, but, I had had one other bad night with this same driver when he had too much to drink. I didn't want a scene.
We went out to our car, which I was sure we had parked on Mission between 24th Street and 23rd. The car was not there. We went looking for the car on other streets for the next two hours. My driver blaming me and I blaming him, as he was too blind in his state to see where we were. As it was close to midnight the vultures of the night started circling. When he was off on another street looking, I called and I begged him to come back to where I was as I was getting a little nervous with all of these circling vultures. Finally, we decided to go back to the Kaleidoscope and we, by luck, caught the anger manager on the way to his car. He gave us a ride back to my daughter house where we called the cops and waited another hour or two for the cops to come for a stolen car report. I had already called to find out if it had been towed. It had not.
The next day, after driving my grandkids to school, I stayed in bed for twenty-four hours, with my head covered, because I knew I had already caused my daughter countless tickets, towing fees and other San Francisco craziness and now I had lost her car altogether. I didn't have good dreams. God, I didn't want to get up again.
She came home from her trip across the big pond and for some reason her and her husband went down and started cruising around The Kaleodoscope. Somehow, they found their car on a different street South Van Ness between 23 and 24th Street.
We had a terrible time finding parking, but we finally found a spot. I gathered my poems and hurriedly made it to The Kaleidoscope, which was a full house. I was the first reader after the band played a few numbers. My driver headed to the bar for more to drink. He was the only one in the place talking loudly through the music. I tried to catch his eyes, but by then he had the attention of a beautiful brunette with long legs.
The band played their own music, which I thought was funny and original. The two singers were comic and good singers.
I was the first reader and had picked out what I thought was my best anger poems. I did alright until I got to the one I had just written earlier that day and I didn't have it under my belt yet and kind of stumbled and read it badly. They had told me 15 minutes and I had to cut it to 10 when I got there. There are many poets in San Francisco just waiting to read. I said, I had found it a little hard coming from Phoenix where there was a drought of poetry to San Francisco where that was a flood of poetry. I got some laughs and some claps. I was happy.
The poetry reading went on and Jessica read and she does performance poetry. I thought she did very well. Most of the poets only read one poem, but my driver,S. D., was getting restless. Poetry sometimes seem to get him a bit uinhinged. He feels like he is getting peppered by words like tiny bullets. He can't take too much, too long, especially when he had had to much to drink. Maybe he has not been subject to the written word long enough. His own words would probably entertain him more.
I agreed to leave at the half, even though I didn't really wanted to. I wanted to make a night of it...as long as I was there and I was the feature reader, but, I had had one other bad night with this same driver when he had too much to drink. I didn't want a scene.
We went out to our car, which I was sure we had parked on Mission between 24th Street and 23rd. The car was not there. We went looking for the car on other streets for the next two hours. My driver blaming me and I blaming him, as he was too blind in his state to see where we were. As it was close to midnight the vultures of the night started circling. When he was off on another street looking, I called and I begged him to come back to where I was as I was getting a little nervous with all of these circling vultures. Finally, we decided to go back to the Kaleidoscope and we, by luck, caught the anger manager on the way to his car. He gave us a ride back to my daughter house where we called the cops and waited another hour or two for the cops to come for a stolen car report. I had already called to find out if it had been towed. It had not.
The next day, after driving my grandkids to school, I stayed in bed for twenty-four hours, with my head covered, because I knew I had already caused my daughter countless tickets, towing fees and other San Francisco craziness and now I had lost her car altogether. I didn't have good dreams. God, I didn't want to get up again.
She came home from her trip across the big pond and for some reason her and her husband went down and started cruising around The Kaleodoscope. Somehow, they found their car on a different street South Van Ness between 23 and 24th Street.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Irene's Store
Sorry, I didn't realize this poem for Hertige Women's Book
was not finished. This is the final version. I hope.
I make many mistakes, grammer, spelling, punuation, etc. I
need to fix. This should give the worst writer in the world
courage. L.
IRENE’S STORE
In the town of Boulder, Utah
My mom, Irene, for awhile, had
The only store for thirty miles around
She had everything in that store
That you could think of
Groceries, blocks of taste cheese
Levies, cowboy boots
Lasso rope by the foot
Cattle vaccine, pocket knives
Sweet’s candy and cookies
Bread brought by the mail truck
You could get gasoline by
Pumping up five gallons by hand
Then shooting it down to your tank
You could even get a tire
Fixed at Irene’s store
Or darn good instructions
On how to do it yourself
You had to break it down
By running a car next to the rim
Mama liked to have fun
And you could always hear her
Musical laughter ringing out
High above everyone else
I think mama’s laughter just
Made people feel good
And that’s why so many people
Stopped by to visit so often
From all over the place
Daddy tried to get Mama to
Take the doorbell off the store
So we could have one meal
Without someone coming to the store
But she never did and “Ding dong.”
Somebody always had to
Jump up and run, usually her
Mama was the first mayor of Boulder
So we talked a lot about the town
She helped get the first water system in
And we stopped scooping mice
Out of that old cement cistern
She talked Dad into giving the town
The spring from the upper ranch
For great tasting drinking water
That needed no chemicals
It’s still the greatest tasting
Water in southern Utah
Mama became the first president
Of the Utah Cowbell association
And even helped think up that name
She got bored with the Cowboys
Having all the conventions and talk
The Cowbells put out a beef cookbook
With some of my mama’s tasty recipes
Including Hunter’s Delight,…yummy.
The store was where
We helped Mama put together
Case machinery just outside the door
That she sold to the ranchers
Where we had to help Daddy
Put in a new motor in his cattle truck
Where she taught men how to
Sling gas barrels off a truck the right way
You had to roll and move the weight
Where we had to lock the door
To run and help the young heifers
Next to the store in the catchall
Have their first oversized calves
She had me run back to the store
For these great big sulfa tablets
While she held the cows uterus
Then she stuffed it and the pill
Back inside clear up to her elbow
Then she cussed Daddy for
Buying that great big Herford bull
The cows lived and word got out
The store was where the dog ran in with
Hundreds of porky pine quills in his nose
That we had to extract with pliers
Where, Daddy drank up all the Shillings vanilla
Stuck out his chin and challenged her
“I know you’re mad…hit me right there.”
Mama knocked him right off the porch
Where he lay flat on his back
While his buddies laughed
I thought he might get up and kill her
The store was the only place to be
When Daddy and his buddies
Were passed out all over the house
But best of all were those
Two tables filled with arrowhead
Where you could sit with a cold coke
Or a beer and talk about everything
We five girls were Mama’s helpers
Especially when she drove off
To show tourists the back country
Or went to Richfield for freight
We were often there starting
Or getting in on wild conversations
There were more things discussed
In that store than anyplace in town
Maybe in all of Southern Utah,including church
In that store we could discuss anything
With many a sweaty cowboy over from
The round up at the Government corral
Needing cold refreshments or lunch
We’d be quiet when Daddy came in
To guzzle straight down one small cokes
Then reach for another, real coke in those days
But I remember Daddy cussing a lot
About all the stupid talk going on
What chance did we five girls have
Growing up in a store like that
Everybody coming by to see us
Everybody talking about everything
Some adventure always going on
Always meeting somebody new
Teasing, joking, flirting having fun
Doing flips, walking on my hand
Getting ready for the dances
I think two of my sister even
Found husbands in that store
I know some of us are still
The biggest talkers around
Hoping to spread a few new ideas
Still looking for new skills or new truths
Fighting causes, or discussing things that should
…or maybe shouldn’t be talked about
And laughing all the time just like Mama
And still wanting to have that fun
We became fearless just like her
She let me climb the highest ledges
My other sister chased wild steers
Another one nursed sick people and animals
Right in that little store, just like Mama
My older sister launched forbidden subjects
We could debate with the best of them
And doing it still, when we get a chance
But I wonder about those “hot rocks”
That those uranium hunters brought in
That Mama used to let us handle
And test with her Geiger counter
Maybe that’s what wrong with my hand right now
I can’t really blame Mama for how I turned out
Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous. gambling
Looking for a cause, a party or laugher
Always wanting something wild and crazy
Just being raised in Irene’s Store
…Linda King 2/18/2010
was not finished. This is the final version. I hope.
I make many mistakes, grammer, spelling, punuation, etc. I
need to fix. This should give the worst writer in the world
courage. L.
IRENE’S STORE
In the town of Boulder, Utah
My mom, Irene, for awhile, had
The only store for thirty miles around
She had everything in that store
That you could think of
Groceries, blocks of taste cheese
Levies, cowboy boots
Lasso rope by the foot
Cattle vaccine, pocket knives
Sweet’s candy and cookies
Bread brought by the mail truck
You could get gasoline by
Pumping up five gallons by hand
Then shooting it down to your tank
You could even get a tire
Fixed at Irene’s store
Or darn good instructions
On how to do it yourself
You had to break it down
By running a car next to the rim
Mama liked to have fun
And you could always hear her
Musical laughter ringing out
High above everyone else
I think mama’s laughter just
Made people feel good
And that’s why so many people
Stopped by to visit so often
From all over the place
Daddy tried to get Mama to
Take the doorbell off the store
So we could have one meal
Without someone coming to the store
But she never did and “Ding dong.”
Somebody always had to
Jump up and run, usually her
Mama was the first mayor of Boulder
So we talked a lot about the town
She helped get the first water system in
And we stopped scooping mice
Out of that old cement cistern
She talked Dad into giving the town
The spring from the upper ranch
For great tasting drinking water
That needed no chemicals
It’s still the greatest tasting
Water in southern Utah
Mama became the first president
Of the Utah Cowbell association
And even helped think up that name
She got bored with the Cowboys
Having all the conventions and talk
The Cowbells put out a beef cookbook
With some of my mama’s tasty recipes
Including Hunter’s Delight,…yummy.
The store was where
We helped Mama put together
Case machinery just outside the door
That she sold to the ranchers
Where we had to help Daddy
Put in a new motor in his cattle truck
Where she taught men how to
Sling gas barrels off a truck the right way
You had to roll and move the weight
Where we had to lock the door
To run and help the young heifers
Next to the store in the catchall
Have their first oversized calves
She had me run back to the store
For these great big sulfa tablets
While she held the cows uterus
Then she stuffed it and the pill
Back inside clear up to her elbow
Then she cussed Daddy for
Buying that great big Herford bull
The cows lived and word got out
The store was where the dog ran in with
Hundreds of porky pine quills in his nose
That we had to extract with pliers
Where, Daddy drank up all the Shillings vanilla
Stuck out his chin and challenged her
“I know you’re mad…hit me right there.”
Mama knocked him right off the porch
Where he lay flat on his back
While his buddies laughed
I thought he might get up and kill her
The store was the only place to be
When Daddy and his buddies
Were passed out all over the house
But best of all were those
Two tables filled with arrowhead
Where you could sit with a cold coke
Or a beer and talk about everything
We five girls were Mama’s helpers
Especially when she drove off
To show tourists the back country
Or went to Richfield for freight
We were often there starting
Or getting in on wild conversations
There were more things discussed
In that store than anyplace in town
Maybe in all of Southern Utah,including church
In that store we could discuss anything
With many a sweaty cowboy over from
The round up at the Government corral
Needing cold refreshments or lunch
We’d be quiet when Daddy came in
To guzzle straight down one small cokes
Then reach for another, real coke in those days
But I remember Daddy cussing a lot
About all the stupid talk going on
What chance did we five girls have
Growing up in a store like that
Everybody coming by to see us
Everybody talking about everything
Some adventure always going on
Always meeting somebody new
Teasing, joking, flirting having fun
Doing flips, walking on my hand
Getting ready for the dances
I think two of my sister even
Found husbands in that store
I know some of us are still
The biggest talkers around
Hoping to spread a few new ideas
Still looking for new skills or new truths
Fighting causes, or discussing things that should
…or maybe shouldn’t be talked about
And laughing all the time just like Mama
And still wanting to have that fun
We became fearless just like her
She let me climb the highest ledges
My other sister chased wild steers
Another one nursed sick people and animals
Right in that little store, just like Mama
My older sister launched forbidden subjects
We could debate with the best of them
And doing it still, when we get a chance
But I wonder about those “hot rocks”
That those uranium hunters brought in
That Mama used to let us handle
And test with her Geiger counter
Maybe that’s what wrong with my hand right now
I can’t really blame Mama for how I turned out
Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous. gambling
Looking for a cause, a party or laugher
Always wanting something wild and crazy
Just being raised in Irene’s Store
…Linda King 2/18/2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
GROUP THERAPY ON LINE
I miss my group therapy in Phoenix and since it was free, paid for by the gambling Casinos who had to agree to this in order to set up their Indian Tribes Casinos in Phoenix. They knew they were going to make a lot more money than therapy costs...and it costs a lot. I blamed my gambling on them just to give therapy a try. They didn't know I started gambling clear back in the 70's when Bukowski and I used to head for the track. There is nothing like a horse running down the track to the finish line to make your forget the miseries in the world. I was the only "action" gambler. The other girls just sit with a one armed bandit and got robbed. Our therapist said action gamblers are the hardest to cure. They just need that action. If I wasn't so old maybe I could convert the action to running or skiing or something else to get my adrenalin rush. I would have been alright it they hadn't opened off-track betting right next to my house.
My therapist didn't say much, just listened. In fact, I was getting tired of driving all the way to Scottsdale just to entertain her with my stories. The Indians didn't pay for my gas. I often went from therapy to catch a couple of races. She knew and I knew I was never going to stop going to "off-track" two blocks from my house. She encourage me to go to San Francisco...someplace she has always wanted to live. She loved my poetry...Here I am. It's hard to believe I been here almost a year.
I didn't loose my house over just gambling. I guess it started when I wanted to see Europe after a free trip to a Bukowski eventin Germany. The money came out of the house. After the first "refi" it was easy. Kind of like sex. You want to do it again. Especially when they are telling you your house is worth ten times what you paid for it. It's like betting on the big six. It was a gamble. I saw Paris, Amsterdam and England. And then all of America went crazy. I knew the stock market gang was nothing but a bunch of gamblers...it takes one to know one. In their scheming mind they figured out just where some untouched money was...ah ha...it's in hard working retirement accounts. They really worked at converting those accounts to their gambling operations. Who has the money now?? A lot of IRAs are still going that way.
Maybe it not really the group therapy I miss, maybe I just wanted to tell those sad faced slot players I made it to San Francisco...maybe half transplanted...even though just yesterday, after a family upset, I had to fight with my steering wheel so it wouldn't drive to Golden Gate Fields...where, on Sunday, the hot dogs, beer and parking is only a dollar.
Now, I don't think it's just me, but everyone in the world needs a little group therapy and I might as well start it right here on VOOMAN'S VOICE. This last year has been rough, what with my numb hands, losing my home and hearth, my dogs, my lover, my dignity, my credit, almost my sanity...but it is all in your mind set. I made these hands do one more sculpture and it's a beauty.. Jack Hirschman. But I fell into a hole after it was done. Maybe I am afraid one of these sculptures is going to be my last. With all the rain, the sculpture started growing mold instead of drying. I thought for a time in was my own head growing mold. It's starting to dry now. I feel better...but all these earthquakes and people in so much misery has not made me happy. I dream last night that a giant wave had me and these houses right in front of the zoo tumbling out to sea. With my dream is could come true or just be my tumbling fears. I can't stop myself from finding out what is going on it the world. Let's face it the world sucks, America suck, our government sucks, the weather sucks "Humanity you never had it from the beginning"...as Bukowski said it.
The other night I fell into the lips of a man. It was easy and good is good, other than, I know it's the wrong man...but maybe their never was a right man or never can be a right man. Maybe that is one of the fantasies that we like to believe. Maybe marriage is a false institution that millions of people are captured in like prison when they are really wanting someone else, or sometwo or somethree else. Maybe my singleness is primo and I don't know it.
If anyone would like to join Vooman's Voice Group Therapy...men are welcome, I would be happy for all intelligent, wise or humorous voices that might make me believe there is still hope, happiness and humor out there...jump in and say your say. Scream your scream. Let us commiserate together. If you have a blog...a blogspot address. How can I go on living a blogless life. My sister, who is a mathathon blogger, is outrunning me everyday. My muscles are limp. Help!!! HELP!!!
My therapist didn't say much, just listened. In fact, I was getting tired of driving all the way to Scottsdale just to entertain her with my stories. The Indians didn't pay for my gas. I often went from therapy to catch a couple of races. She knew and I knew I was never going to stop going to "off-track" two blocks from my house. She encourage me to go to San Francisco...someplace she has always wanted to live. She loved my poetry...Here I am. It's hard to believe I been here almost a year.
I didn't loose my house over just gambling. I guess it started when I wanted to see Europe after a free trip to a Bukowski eventin Germany. The money came out of the house. After the first "refi" it was easy. Kind of like sex. You want to do it again. Especially when they are telling you your house is worth ten times what you paid for it. It's like betting on the big six. It was a gamble. I saw Paris, Amsterdam and England. And then all of America went crazy. I knew the stock market gang was nothing but a bunch of gamblers...it takes one to know one. In their scheming mind they figured out just where some untouched money was...ah ha...it's in hard working retirement accounts. They really worked at converting those accounts to their gambling operations. Who has the money now?? A lot of IRAs are still going that way.
Maybe it not really the group therapy I miss, maybe I just wanted to tell those sad faced slot players I made it to San Francisco...maybe half transplanted...even though just yesterday, after a family upset, I had to fight with my steering wheel so it wouldn't drive to Golden Gate Fields...where, on Sunday, the hot dogs, beer and parking is only a dollar.
Now, I don't think it's just me, but everyone in the world needs a little group therapy and I might as well start it right here on VOOMAN'S VOICE. This last year has been rough, what with my numb hands, losing my home and hearth, my dogs, my lover, my dignity, my credit, almost my sanity...but it is all in your mind set. I made these hands do one more sculpture and it's a beauty.. Jack Hirschman. But I fell into a hole after it was done. Maybe I am afraid one of these sculptures is going to be my last. With all the rain, the sculpture started growing mold instead of drying. I thought for a time in was my own head growing mold. It's starting to dry now. I feel better...but all these earthquakes and people in so much misery has not made me happy. I dream last night that a giant wave had me and these houses right in front of the zoo tumbling out to sea. With my dream is could come true or just be my tumbling fears. I can't stop myself from finding out what is going on it the world. Let's face it the world sucks, America suck, our government sucks, the weather sucks "Humanity you never had it from the beginning"...as Bukowski said it.
The other night I fell into the lips of a man. It was easy and good is good, other than, I know it's the wrong man...but maybe their never was a right man or never can be a right man. Maybe that is one of the fantasies that we like to believe. Maybe marriage is a false institution that millions of people are captured in like prison when they are really wanting someone else, or sometwo or somethree else. Maybe my singleness is primo and I don't know it.
If anyone would like to join Vooman's Voice Group Therapy...men are welcome, I would be happy for all intelligent, wise or humorous voices that might make me believe there is still hope, happiness and humor out there...jump in and say your say. Scream your scream. Let us commiserate together. If you have a blog...a blogspot address. How can I go on living a blogless life. My sister, who is a mathathon blogger, is outrunning me everyday. My muscles are limp. Help!!! HELP!!!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Woman's poems
.....
IRENE’S STORE
For awhile, my mom, Irene
Owned the only store
In the town of Boulder, Utah
She had everything in that store
That you could think of
Groceries, blocks of taste cheese
Levies, cowboy boots
Lasso rope by the foot
Cattle vaccine, pocket knives
Sweet’s candy and cookies
And bread brought by
The mail truck
You could get gas
By pumping up five gallons by hand
Then shooting it down to your tank
You could even get a tire
Fixed at Irene’s store
Or darn good instructions
On how to do it yourself
But best of all were those
Two tables filled with arrowhead
Where you could sit with a cold coke
Or a beer and talk about everything
We five girls, mama’s helpers
Were often there starting
Or getting in on wild conversations
There were more things discussed
In that store than anyplace in town
…maybe in southern Utah, including church
In that store we could discuss anything
I remember Daddy cussing a lot
About all the talk going on
Mama liked to have fun
And you could always hear her
Musical laughter ringing out
High above everyone else
I think mama’s laughter just
Made people feel good
And that’s why so many people
Stopped by so often
Daddy tried to get Mama to
Take the doorbell off the store
So we could have one meal
Without someone coming to the store
But she never did and “Ding dong.”
Somebody always had to
Jump up and run, usually her
Mama was the first mayor of Boulder
So we talked a lot about the town
She helped get the first water system in
And we stopped scooping mice
Out of that old cement cistern
She talked Dad into giving
The spring from the upper ranch
For great tasting drinking water
That needed no chemicals
It’s still the greatest tasting
Water in Southern Utah
Mama became the first
President of the Utah Cowbelle’s
And even helped think up that name
She got bored with the Cowboys
Having all the conventions and talk
And I remember that first
Worn out Cowbelle Beef Cookbook
That had some of my mom’s tasty recipes
Including Hunter’s Delight
What chance did we five girls have
Growing up in a store like that
Everybody coming by to see us
Everybody talking about everything
Some adventure always going on
Always meeting somebody new
Teasing, joking, flirting having fun
I know some of us are still
The biggest talkers around
Hoping to spread a few new ideas
Still looking for new skills or new truths
Discussing things that should
…or maybe, shouldn’t be talked about
And laughing all the time just like Mama
We became fearless just like her
She let me climb the highest ledges
My other sister chased wild steers
Another nursed sick people and animals
Right in that little store, just like Mama
My older sister launch forbidden subjects
We could debate with the best of them
We still like to have that fun
and doing it when we get a chance
Having those three day marathon talks
them most folks can't stand
But I still wonder about those “hot rocks”
That those uranium hunters brought in
That Mama used let us tests
With her Geiger counter
I can’t really blame Mama
For how I turned out
Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous
Looking for a cause, a party or a laugh
Some have said, "Wild and crazy."
….Just being raised in Irene’s Store
…Linda King 2/18/2010
DEAR MAMA
Hello dear, dear mama
How old you are, dear mama
How very, very old
You eat, you sleep, you wait
You wait for your
Return to the other world
You wait to return to
When you were young
And beautiful
And danced
The night away in
The arms of love
Dear Mama
Since you can never answer
It sometimes seems
As if you have already gone
Anyway in your mind
You are already there
Dancing away in some
Beautiful ballroom
And the next dancer
Is waiting
And watching you
Wanting their next dance
You, so lively
You, such a good dancer
You, with that beautiful laughter
Ringing like chimes
Over the top of the music
Can you remember
When the time comes
To dance away
From tired bones
And tired flesh
And a tired mind
That no longer obeys
Your command
Dear Mama
Dear, dear Mama
I thought of you tonight
Lonesome in your room
I thought of you this morning
And the delicious fluffy
Biscuits you used to
Make for breakfast
I thought of you when
I took a shower
And saw the rail
You used to hold on to
And I thought that
Someday I, too, would be old
My knees and joints
Refusing to hold me up
And I wished I had
My Mama for company
To kick around the house
To laugh or even argue with
And I grieved that I could not
Bring you home again
Dear, dear, dear Mama
Love,
…Linda 10/22/2000
THE UNSUNG WOMEN OF THE WEST
We’re the unsung women who came out West
We built our towns and made our nest
We had ten kids, we birthed in pain
Without a doctor or going insane
We got up early, he was still in bed
Started the fires and made the bread
We milked the cow, we fed the cat
Slopped the hogs to make them fat
We mopped the floors and cooked the food
And then we prayed to set the mood
We churned the butter and made cottage cheese
Picked he berries and shelled he peas
We grubbed the sage, we chopped the weeds
We hoed the garden and sowed the seeds
We squashed the bugs, we killed the weevil
We fought the blight and other evil
We dug the carrots and picked the ‘maters.
Shucked the corn and dug the ‘taters
We picked the fruit, we bottled the jam
We pickled the beets and cured the ham
We burned the trash and grubbed the thistle
Picked up the yard clean as a whistle
We planted the trees, shrubs and roses
Then bathed the kids and wiped their noses
We raised the chicken and cleaned the coop
Chopped off their head to made the soup
We made the quilts, wove the rugs
Knitted socks and passed out hugs
We sewed the clothes and crocheted lace
At the county fair we took first place
We shot the deer and dried the jerky
Baked pumpkin pie to go with turkey
The dogs we raised all knew “sig’em”
When they bit someone we had to lick’em
Into the barn we brought in hay
Stacked it high without no pay
We rode for cattle with our pack mule
We brand the calves and tagged the bull
We watered the fields and built sod dams
We nursed those doggie calves and lambs
We dressed as ladies with hats and curls
Charmed the men and giggled like girls
We talked in church and then, by gosh,
On top of that was the waterboss
We ran for office, helped the poor
Collected the funds from door to door
We taught the kids, went over their lessons
Took them to church to receive their blessings
We raised our kids to do what’s right
We made them share, we stopped he fights
We gave Grandpa a helping hand
Put him to bed when he could hardly strand
We helped birth babies, calmed the fears
Laid out the dead and dried the tears
For hired men we cleaned and cooked
Then at night we read a book
We filled the cellar to last all winter
Brought it up to serve for dinner
We curried the horses, trained the dog
We bucketed the coal and brought in logs
When it came spring, things went outside
We cleaned the windows, walls and hides
We papered our walls, moved the toilet
When something didn’t work, then we’d oil it
To do our wash we made soap from lie
We scrubbed, blued, wrung, then hug to dry
We wrangled our cowboy who wanted to play
Danced all night then worked all day
There’s almost nothing we can’t do
Inside, outside…night time too
As women go we are the best
The unsung women who built the west
By Ann Reynolds and Linda King…Sisters
IRENE’S STORE
For awhile, my mom, Irene
Owned the only store
In the town of Boulder, Utah
She had everything in that store
That you could think of
Groceries, blocks of taste cheese
Levies, cowboy boots
Lasso rope by the foot
Cattle vaccine, pocket knives
Sweet’s candy and cookies
And bread brought by
The mail truck
You could get gas
By pumping up five gallons by hand
Then shooting it down to your tank
You could even get a tire
Fixed at Irene’s store
Or darn good instructions
On how to do it yourself
But best of all were those
Two tables filled with arrowhead
Where you could sit with a cold coke
Or a beer and talk about everything
We five girls, mama’s helpers
Were often there starting
Or getting in on wild conversations
There were more things discussed
In that store than anyplace in town
…maybe in southern Utah, including church
In that store we could discuss anything
I remember Daddy cussing a lot
About all the talk going on
Mama liked to have fun
And you could always hear her
Musical laughter ringing out
High above everyone else
I think mama’s laughter just
Made people feel good
And that’s why so many people
Stopped by so often
Daddy tried to get Mama to
Take the doorbell off the store
So we could have one meal
Without someone coming to the store
But she never did and “Ding dong.”
Somebody always had to
Jump up and run, usually her
Mama was the first mayor of Boulder
So we talked a lot about the town
She helped get the first water system in
And we stopped scooping mice
Out of that old cement cistern
She talked Dad into giving
The spring from the upper ranch
For great tasting drinking water
That needed no chemicals
It’s still the greatest tasting
Water in Southern Utah
Mama became the first
President of the Utah Cowbelle’s
And even helped think up that name
She got bored with the Cowboys
Having all the conventions and talk
And I remember that first
Worn out Cowbelle Beef Cookbook
That had some of my mom’s tasty recipes
Including Hunter’s Delight
What chance did we five girls have
Growing up in a store like that
Everybody coming by to see us
Everybody talking about everything
Some adventure always going on
Always meeting somebody new
Teasing, joking, flirting having fun
I know some of us are still
The biggest talkers around
Hoping to spread a few new ideas
Still looking for new skills or new truths
Discussing things that should
…or maybe, shouldn’t be talked about
And laughing all the time just like Mama
We became fearless just like her
She let me climb the highest ledges
My other sister chased wild steers
Another nursed sick people and animals
Right in that little store, just like Mama
My older sister launch forbidden subjects
We could debate with the best of them
We still like to have that fun
and doing it when we get a chance
Having those three day marathon talks
them most folks can't stand
But I still wonder about those “hot rocks”
That those uranium hunters brought in
That Mama used let us tests
With her Geiger counter
I can’t really blame Mama
For how I turned out
Restless, curious, seeking, adventurous
Looking for a cause, a party or a laugh
Some have said, "Wild and crazy."
….Just being raised in Irene’s Store
…Linda King 2/18/2010
DEAR MAMA
Hello dear, dear mama
How old you are, dear mama
How very, very old
You eat, you sleep, you wait
You wait for your
Return to the other world
You wait to return to
When you were young
And beautiful
And danced
The night away in
The arms of love
Dear Mama
Since you can never answer
It sometimes seems
As if you have already gone
Anyway in your mind
You are already there
Dancing away in some
Beautiful ballroom
And the next dancer
Is waiting
And watching you
Wanting their next dance
You, so lively
You, such a good dancer
You, with that beautiful laughter
Ringing like chimes
Over the top of the music
Can you remember
When the time comes
To dance away
From tired bones
And tired flesh
And a tired mind
That no longer obeys
Your command
Dear Mama
Dear, dear Mama
I thought of you tonight
Lonesome in your room
I thought of you this morning
And the delicious fluffy
Biscuits you used to
Make for breakfast
I thought of you when
I took a shower
And saw the rail
You used to hold on to
And I thought that
Someday I, too, would be old
My knees and joints
Refusing to hold me up
And I wished I had
My Mama for company
To kick around the house
To laugh or even argue with
And I grieved that I could not
Bring you home again
Dear, dear, dear Mama
Love,
…Linda 10/22/2000
THE UNSUNG WOMEN OF THE WEST
We’re the unsung women who came out West
We built our towns and made our nest
We had ten kids, we birthed in pain
Without a doctor or going insane
We got up early, he was still in bed
Started the fires and made the bread
We milked the cow, we fed the cat
Slopped the hogs to make them fat
We mopped the floors and cooked the food
And then we prayed to set the mood
We churned the butter and made cottage cheese
Picked he berries and shelled he peas
We grubbed the sage, we chopped the weeds
We hoed the garden and sowed the seeds
We squashed the bugs, we killed the weevil
We fought the blight and other evil
We dug the carrots and picked the ‘maters.
Shucked the corn and dug the ‘taters
We picked the fruit, we bottled the jam
We pickled the beets and cured the ham
We burned the trash and grubbed the thistle
Picked up the yard clean as a whistle
We planted the trees, shrubs and roses
Then bathed the kids and wiped their noses
We raised the chicken and cleaned the coop
Chopped off their head to made the soup
We made the quilts, wove the rugs
Knitted socks and passed out hugs
We sewed the clothes and crocheted lace
At the county fair we took first place
We shot the deer and dried the jerky
Baked pumpkin pie to go with turkey
The dogs we raised all knew “sig’em”
When they bit someone we had to lick’em
Into the barn we brought in hay
Stacked it high without no pay
We rode for cattle with our pack mule
We brand the calves and tagged the bull
We watered the fields and built sod dams
We nursed those doggie calves and lambs
We dressed as ladies with hats and curls
Charmed the men and giggled like girls
We talked in church and then, by gosh,
On top of that was the waterboss
We ran for office, helped the poor
Collected the funds from door to door
We taught the kids, went over their lessons
Took them to church to receive their blessings
We raised our kids to do what’s right
We made them share, we stopped he fights
We gave Grandpa a helping hand
Put him to bed when he could hardly strand
We helped birth babies, calmed the fears
Laid out the dead and dried the tears
For hired men we cleaned and cooked
Then at night we read a book
We filled the cellar to last all winter
Brought it up to serve for dinner
We curried the horses, trained the dog
We bucketed the coal and brought in logs
When it came spring, things went outside
We cleaned the windows, walls and hides
We papered our walls, moved the toilet
When something didn’t work, then we’d oil it
To do our wash we made soap from lie
We scrubbed, blued, wrung, then hug to dry
We wrangled our cowboy who wanted to play
Danced all night then worked all day
There’s almost nothing we can’t do
Inside, outside…night time too
As women go we are the best
The unsung women who built the west
By Ann Reynolds and Linda King…Sisters
Monday, January 25, 2010
EARTHQUAKE IN HAITI
As a caravan of misery unfolds before our eyes
Shocked brains can not absorb such destruction
The earth trembled and rolled in waves
As Port Au Prince collapses
In a cloud of concrete dust
Crushed arms, legs, bodies and heads
Black injured faces covered with white dust
Bodies trapped with a piece of metal
A wall or roof sitting on others
Screams of pain come from the rubble
....And the moon darken the sun in total eclipse
Anderson Cooper, of CNN reports...reports
This child needs surgery
This woman needs blood
There is no food, no water, no medical supplies
Whole street are down in a massive tangle
No help, no doctors, no shelter
Thousands on the streets
This leg needs to be amputated
Work fast...the first 72 hours are critical
Rows of dead bodies line the streets
And a wall of faces spring up
People looking for loved ones
People begging for help to find a child
The orphans, what will happen to the babies?
The Presidential Palace is destroyed
The UN building gone and also many employees
The prison in rubble and prisoners free
The earth rolls again in after shocks...after shocks
Truck loads of bodies are dumped into a mass grave
Dr. Sanjay, of CNN, passes the night with the critically injured
When a medical team pull out for security reasons
And more survivors are released from the rubble
A girl of five is saved, but later dies calling for her mother
A 72 year old grandma buried in a church survives
A boy's head is bloodied by a brick slung in a food riot
The police kill two men, who lived, for stealing rice
A small black eyed boys if found
His haunting eyes tell of his 7 day ordeal
Everyone is wearing masks against the stink of rotting flesh
Help! Help! Where is help? Planes can't land
The ships can' arrive, the port is gone
Medical supply are sitting at the airport undelivered
The Red Cross hospital ship has not arrived
The outer towns have not even been looked at
People are dieing that could have been saved
With equipment, antibiotics and surgeons
Now many orphans are on a bus to...nowhere
Big eyed children, packed in together...are turned back
Their caretaker is crying
Don't leave by boat...they warn
The lucky ones fly out...some orphans are permitted to leave
Money! Can you give money? Donate...Please!
Twenty-seven million given in 3 days..many countries helping
Watch for fraud... and Clinton and Bush are working together
Obama pledged billions... Haiti benefits everywhere.
Call 90999 and $10 will be added to your phone bill
They need more...so much more..money, food, water, tents
How many dead? Nobody know..200,000 and counting
Bulldozers moving...Many unrecord, going in mass graves
How could this angry, polluted, buckling and dieing earth
Strike people already colored in so much misery
So hungery and poor to have already eaten mud cakes
Is this the earth we call mother?
Can a God rule all this?
Can a God rule this?
Is Allah..Is Buddha...Is Voodoo lost in the rubble?
Is Human slavery really gone?
Will the bribes and greed of the ruling class ever be gone?
Haiti is most corruption among nations
Will the rich see the misery of people in Haiti
And reach out to them... and the poor of every nation?
....An earth...A world calls for real change
Change has come to Haiti
The moon darkened the sun
The Mayans foretold of disaster
........Earthquake
...Linda King 1/22/2010
Shocked brains can not absorb such destruction
The earth trembled and rolled in waves
As Port Au Prince collapses
In a cloud of concrete dust
Crushed arms, legs, bodies and heads
Black injured faces covered with white dust
Bodies trapped with a piece of metal
A wall or roof sitting on others
Screams of pain come from the rubble
....And the moon darken the sun in total eclipse
Anderson Cooper, of CNN reports...reports
This child needs surgery
This woman needs blood
There is no food, no water, no medical supplies
Whole street are down in a massive tangle
No help, no doctors, no shelter
Thousands on the streets
This leg needs to be amputated
Work fast...the first 72 hours are critical
Rows of dead bodies line the streets
And a wall of faces spring up
People looking for loved ones
People begging for help to find a child
The orphans, what will happen to the babies?
The Presidential Palace is destroyed
The UN building gone and also many employees
The prison in rubble and prisoners free
The earth rolls again in after shocks...after shocks
Truck loads of bodies are dumped into a mass grave
Dr. Sanjay, of CNN, passes the night with the critically injured
When a medical team pull out for security reasons
And more survivors are released from the rubble
A girl of five is saved, but later dies calling for her mother
A 72 year old grandma buried in a church survives
A boy's head is bloodied by a brick slung in a food riot
The police kill two men, who lived, for stealing rice
A small black eyed boys if found
His haunting eyes tell of his 7 day ordeal
Everyone is wearing masks against the stink of rotting flesh
Help! Help! Where is help? Planes can't land
The ships can' arrive, the port is gone
Medical supply are sitting at the airport undelivered
The Red Cross hospital ship has not arrived
The outer towns have not even been looked at
People are dieing that could have been saved
With equipment, antibiotics and surgeons
Now many orphans are on a bus to...nowhere
Big eyed children, packed in together...are turned back
Their caretaker is crying
Don't leave by boat...they warn
The lucky ones fly out...some orphans are permitted to leave
Money! Can you give money? Donate...Please!
Twenty-seven million given in 3 days..many countries helping
Watch for fraud... and Clinton and Bush are working together
Obama pledged billions... Haiti benefits everywhere.
Call 90999 and $10 will be added to your phone bill
They need more...so much more..money, food, water, tents
How many dead? Nobody know..200,000 and counting
Bulldozers moving...Many unrecord, going in mass graves
How could this angry, polluted, buckling and dieing earth
Strike people already colored in so much misery
So hungery and poor to have already eaten mud cakes
Is this the earth we call mother?
Can a God rule all this?
Can a God rule this?
Is Allah..Is Buddha...Is Voodoo lost in the rubble?
Is Human slavery really gone?
Will the bribes and greed of the ruling class ever be gone?
Haiti is most corruption among nations
Will the rich see the misery of people in Haiti
And reach out to them... and the poor of every nation?
....An earth...A world calls for real change
Change has come to Haiti
The moon darkened the sun
The Mayans foretold of disaster
........Earthquake
...Linda King 1/22/2010
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